CHAPTER V.

DESCEND THE VALLEY—ITS DIFFICULTIES—HORSE ROLLS DOWN A PRECIPICE—PURITY OF THE WATER—ACCIDENT CAUSED THEREBY—ELKHORN SPRING—TOWER CREEK—HORSE PLUNGES OVER HIS DEPTH IN FORDING, AND DESTROYS WHATEVER IS DELIQUESCENT IN HIS PACK—ABSENCE OF ANTIQUITIES, OR EVIDENCES OF ANCIENT HABITATION—A REMARKABLE CAVERN—PINCHED FOR FOOD—OLD INDIAN LODGES—THE BEAVER—A DESERTED PIONEER'S CAMP—INCIDENT OF THE PUMPKIN.

Nov. 19th. Daylight put us in motion. It was determined to follow the valley down in its involutions, which led us, generally, south. We passed over some fertile, heavily timbered bottoms, where I observed the elm, oak, beech, maple, ash, and sycamore. We had not left our camp more than a mile, when we came to the first appearance of theC. arundinacea, or cane, and we soon after reached the locality of the greenbriar. Travelling in these rich forests is attended with great fatigue and exertion from the underbrush, particularly from the thick growth of cane and greenbriar; the latter of which often binds masses of the fields of cane together, and makes it next to impossible to force a horse through the matted vegetation. Our horse, indeed, while he relieved us from the burden of carrying packs, became the greatest impediment to our getting forward, while in this valley. To find an easier path, we took one of the summit ranges of the valley. But a horse, it seems, must have no climbing to do, when he is under a pack-saddle. We had not gone far on this ridge, when the animal slipped, or stumbled. The impetus of his load was more than he could resist. The declivity was steep, but not precipitous. He rolled over and over for perhaps two hundred feet, until he reached the foot of the ridge. We looked with dismay as hewent, and thought that every bone in his body must have been broken. When we reached him, however, he was not dead, but, with our aid, got up. How he escaped we could not divine, but he looked pleased when he saw us come to his relief, and busy ourselves in extricating him. We unloosed his pack, and did all we could to restore him. We could not find any outward bruise; there was no cut, and no blood was started. Even a horse loves sympathy. After a time, we repacked him, and slowly continued our route. The delay caused by this accident, made this a short day's journey; we did not suppose ourselves to have advanced, in a direct line, over twelve miles. The valley is very serpentine, redoubling on itself.

Nov. 20th. We found the stream made up entirely of pure springs, gushing from the gravel, or rocks. Nothing can exceed the crystal purity of its waters. These springs are often very large. We came to one, in the course of this day, which we judged to be fifty feet wide. It rushes out of an aperture in the rock, and joins the main branch of the river about six hundred yards below, in a volume quite equal to that of the main fork. I found an enormous pair of elk's horns lying on one side of the spring, which I lifted up and hung in the forks of a young oak, and from this incident named it the Elkhorn Spring.

In forcing my way through the rank vines, weeds, and brush, which encumber the valley below this point, I lost my small farrier's hammer from my belt; a loss which was irreparable, as it was the only means we had of setting a shoe on our horse, and had also served on ordinary occasions as a mineral-hammer, instead of the heavier implement in the pack.

We often disturbed the black bear from his lair in the thick canebrakes, but travelled with too much noise to overtake him. The deer frequently bounded across the valley, while turkey, squirrel, duck, and smaller game, were also abundant.

Nov. 21st. The bottom-lands continued to improve in extent and fertility as we descended. The stream, as it wearsits way into deeper levels of the stratification of the country, presents, on either side, high cliffs of rock. These cliffs, which consist of horizontal limestone, resting on sandstone, frequently present prominent pinnacles, resembling ruinous castellated walls. In some places they rise to an astonishing height, and they are uniformly crowned with yellow pines. A remarkable formation of this description appeared to-day, at the entrance of a tributary stream through these walled cliffs, on the left bank, which I called Tower Creek; it impressed one with the idea of the high walls of a ruined battlement.

The purity and transparency of the water are so remarkable, that it is often difficult to estimate its depth in the river. A striking instance of this occurred after passing this point. I was leading the horse. In crossing from the east to the west bank, I had led Butcher to a spot which I thought he could easily ford, without reaching above his knees. He plunged in, however, over his depth, and, swimming across with his pack, came to elevated shores on the other side, which kept him so long in the water, and we were detained so long in searching for a suitable point for him to mount, that almost everything of a soluble character in his pack was either lost or damaged. Our salt and sugar were mostly spoiled; our tea and Indian meal damaged; our skins, blankets, and clothing, saturated. This mishap caused us a world of trouble. Though early in the day, we at once encamped. I immediately built a fire, the horse was speedily unpacked, and each particular article was examined, and such as permitted it, carefully dried. This labor occupied us till a late hour in the night.

Nov. 22d. Up to this point we had seen no Osages, of whose predatory acts we had heard so much at Potosi, and on the sources of the Maramec; nor any signs of their having been in this section of the country during a twelvemonth, certainly not since spring. All the deserted camps, and the evidences of encampment, were old. The bones of animals eaten, found on the high plains east of Calamarca, and at the Elkhorn spring, were bleached and dry. Not a vestige had appeared, since leaving the Wall-cliffs, of a human beinghaving recently visited the country. The silence and desolateness of the wilderness reigned around. And when we looked for evidences of an ancient permanent occupation of the region by man, there were none—not a hillock raised by human hands, nor the smallest object that could be deemed antiquarian. The only evidences of ancient action were those of a geological kind—caverns, valleys of denudation, beds of drift, boulders, water-lines and markings on the faces of cliffs, which betokened oceanic overflow at very antique or primary periods.

The difficulties attending our progress down the valley, induced us to strike out into the open prairie, where travelling was free, and unimpeded by shrubbery or vines. Nothing but illimitable fields of grass, with clumps of trees here and there, met the eye. We travelled steadily, without diverging to the right or left. We sometimes disturbed covies of prairie birds; the rabbit started from his sheltering bush, or the deer enlivened the prospect. We had laid our course south-south-west, and travelled about twenty miles. As evening approached, we searched in vain for water, to encamp. In quest of it, we finally entered a desolate gorge, which seemed, at some seasons, to have been traversed by floods, as it disclosed boulders and piles of rubbish. Daylight departed as we wound our way down this dry gorge, which was found to be flanked, as we descended, with towering cliffs. In the meantime, the heavens became overcast with dense black clouds, and rain soon began to fall. We scanned these lofty cliffs closely, as we were in a cavernous limestone country, for evidences of some practicable opening which might give us shelter for the night. At length, after daylight had gone, the dark mouth of a large cavern appeared on our left, at some twenty or thirty feet elevation. The horse could not be led up this steep, but, by unpacking him, we carried the baggage up, and then hobbled and belled the poor beast, and left him to pick a meal as best he could in this desolate valley. It was the best, and indeed the only thing, we could do for him.

It was not long before I had a fire in the cave, which threw its red rays upon the outlines of the cavern, in a manner which would have formed a study for Michael Angelo. It seemedthat internal waters had flowed out of this cavern for ages, carrying particle by particle of the yielding rock, by which vast masses had been scooped out, or hung still in threatening pendants. Its width was some forty feet, its height perhaps double that space, and its depth illimitable. A small stream of pure water glided along its bottom, and went trickling down the cliff.

The accident in crossing the stream had saturated, but not ruined our tea; and we soon had an infusion of it, to accompany our evening's frugal repast—forfrugalindeed it became, in meats and bread, after our irreparable loss of the day previous. Nothing is more refreshing than a draught of tea in the wilderness, and one soon experiences that this effect is due neither to milk nor sugar. The next thing to be done after supper, was to light a torch and explore the recesses of the cave, lest it should be occupied by some carnivorous beasts, who might fancy a sleeping traveller for a night's meal. Sallying into its dark recesses, gun and torch in hand, we passed up a steep ascent, which made it difficult to keep our feet. This passage, at first, turned to the right, then narrowed, and finally terminated in a low gallery, growing smaller and smaller towards its apparent close. This passage became too low to admit walking, but by the light of our torch, which threw its rays far into its recesses, there appeared no possibility of our proceeding further. We then retraced our steps to our fire in the front of the cave, where there were evidences of Indian camp-fires. We then replenished our fire with fuel, and spread down our pallets for the night. My companion soon adjusted himself in a concave part of the rock, and went to sleep. I looked out from the front of the cave to endeavor to see the horse; but although I caught a sound of his bell, nothing could be seen but intense darkness. The rain had been slight, and had abated; but the cliffs in front, and the clouds above the narrow valley, rendered it impossible to see anything beyond the reach of the flickering rays of our fire. To its precincts I returned, and entered up my journal of the events of the day. Our situation, and the peculiarities of the scenery around us, led me to reflect on that mysterious fate which, inevery hazard, attends human actions, and, by the light of the fire, I pencilled the annexed lines, and clapt down the cavern in my journal as the Cave of Tula.[6]

LINES WRITTEN IN A CAVE IN THE WILDERNESS OF ARKANSAS.

O! thou, who, clothed in magic spell,Delight'st in lonely wilds to dwell,Resting in rift, or wrapped in air,Remote from mortal ken, or care:Genius of caverns drear and wild,Hear a suppliant wandering child—One, who nor a wanton calls,Or intruder in thy walls:One, who spills not on the plain,Blood for sport, or worldly gain,Like his red barbarian kin,Deep in murder—foul in sin;Or, with high, horrific yells,Rends thy dark and silent cells;But, a devious traveller nigh,Weary, hungry, parched, and dry;One, who seeks thy shelter blest,Not to riot, but to rest.Grant me, from thy crystal rill,Oft my glittering cup to fill;Let thy dwelling, rude and high,Make my nightly canopy,And, by superhuman walls,Ward the dew that nightly falls.Guard me from the ills that creepOn the houseless traveller's sleep—From the ravenous panther's spring,From the scorpion's poisoned sting,From the serpent—reptile curst—And the Indian's midnight thrust.Grant me this, aerial sprite,And a balmy rest by night,Blest by visions of delight!Let me dream of friendship true,And that human ills are few;Let me dream that boyhood's schemesAre not, what I've found them, dreams;And his hopes, however gay,Have not flitted fast away.Let me dream, I ne'er have felt,Ease that pleases, joys that melt;Or that I shall ever findHonor fair, or fortune kind;Dream that time shall sweetly fling,In my path, perpetual spring.Let me dream my bosom neverFelt the pang from friends to sever;Or that life is not replete,Or with loss, pain, wo, deceit.Let me dream, misfortune's smartNe'er hath wrung my bleeding heart;Nor its potent, galling sway,Forced me far, O! far away;Let me dream it—for I know,When I wake, it is not so![7]

Nov. 23d. My first care this morning was to find Butcher, who had been left, last night, with a sorry prospect. He was not to be found. I followed our back track to the plains, whither he had gone for his night's meal. By the time I returned with him, the forenoon was wellnigh gone. We then travelled to the south-east. This brought us, in due time, again into the valley of the North Fork. We found it less encumbered with vines and thickets, and very much widened in its expansion between bluff and bluff. We forded it, and found, on its eastern margin, extensive open oak plains. On one of the most conspicuous trees were marks and letters, which proved that it had been visited and singled out for settlement by some enterprising pioneer. From the open character of the country, we could not get near to large game; and we now found that our supply of ball and shot was near its close. We passed down the valley about ten miles, and encamped. Since the loss of our corn-meal, we had had nothing in the shape of bread, and our provisions were now reduced to a very small quantity of dried meat. We had expected, for somedays, to have reached either Indian or white hunters' camps. Our anxiety on this head now became intense. Prudence required, however, that, small as our stores were, they should be divided with strict reference to the probability of our not meeting with hunters, or getting relief, for two or three days.

Nov. 24th. The stick frames, without bark, of several Indian lodges, were passed to-day, denoting that they had not been recently occupied. Travelling down the opposite side of the vale from that taken by my companion, who had charge of the horse, I came to a point on the bank of the river, where I discovered two grown beavers sporting in the stream. The tail of this animal, which appears clumsy and unwieldy in the dead specimen, gives the animal a graceful appearance in the water, where it makes him appear to have a very elongated body. After diving about for some time, they came to the shore, and sat in front of theirwauzh, as it is termed by the Algonquins, or lodge, which in this case was a fissure in the rock. I was perfectly screened by a point of the rock from their view, and sat with my gun cocked, reserving my fire, a few moments, the more perfectly to observe them, when both animals, at the same instant, darted into their holes.

Under the influence of a keen appetite, and a tolerably open forest, we pressed on, this day, about fifteen miles; the horse being, as usual, our chief hindrance.

Nov. 25th. I took the horse's bridle over my arm this morning, and had proceeded through open woods about ten miles, when we descried, from a little summit, a hut in the distance, which had some traits of the labor of white men. This gave animation to our steps, in the hope of finding it occupied. But, as we approached, we could discern no smoke rising up as the sign of occupancy, and were disappointed to find it an abortive effort of some pioneer, and, at the moment, called it Camp No. We afterwards learned that it had been constructed by one Martin, who, as there was not a foot of land in cultivation, had probably aimed to subsist by the chase alone. The location was well chosen. A largecanebrake flanked the river, sufficient to give range to horses and cattle. A little tributary stream bounded a fertile piece of upland, east of this. The hut was built of puncheons, supported on one side by a rude ridge-pole, leaving the front of it open, forming a shed which had a roof and floor. But the stream had now dried up. We found a plant of cotton, bolled out, among the adjacent weeds, which proved the soil and climate suitable to its culture. We were now well within the probable limits of Arkansas.

It was determined to encamp at this spot, turn the horse into the adjacent canebrake, where the leaves were green, to deposit our baggage and camp apparatus in one corner of the hut, and, after making light packs, to take our arms, and proceed in search of settlements. This required a little time. To reach a point where civilization had once tried to get a foothold, however, was something; and we consoled ourselves with the reflection that we could not be remote from its skirts.

The next day (26th) I made an excursion west of the river, from our position, about five miles, to determine satisfactorily our situation. I found, on the opposite side of the valley, a little higher up, at the foot of the cliff, another small (white man's) hut, which had also been abandoned. In a small patch of ground, which had once been cleared, there grew a pumpkin vine, which then had three pumpkins. This was a treasure, which I at once secured. I found that one of them had been partially eaten by some wild animal, and determined to give it to my horse, but could not resist the inclination first to cut off a few slices, which I ate raw with the greatest appetite. The taste seemed delicious. I had not before been aware that my appetite had become so keen by fasting; for we had had but little to eat for many days. Between the horse and myself, we finished it, and had quite a sociable time of it. With the other two, which were the largest, I rode back to camp, where, having a small camp-kettle, we boiled and despatched them, without meat or bread, for supper. It does not require much to make one happy; for, in this instance, our little luck put us in the best of humor.

[6]De Soto.

[7]These lines were published in the Belles-Lettres Repository in 1821, and shortly after, with a commendation, in the New York Statesman.

ABANDON OUR CAMP AND HORSE IN SEARCH OF SETTLEMENTS—INCIDENTS OF THE FIRST DAY—HEAR A SHOT—CAMP IN AN OLD INDIAN LODGE—ACORNS FOR SUPPER—KILL A WOODPECKER—INCIDENTS OF THE SECOND DAY—STERILE RIDGES—WANT OF WATER—CAMP AT NIGHT IN A DEEP GORGE—INCIDENTS OF THE THIRD DAY—FIND A HORSE-PATH, AND PURSUE IT—DISCOVER A MAN ON HORSEBACK—REACH A HUNTER'S CABIN—INCIDENTS THERE—HE CONDUCTS US BACK TO OUR OLD CAMP—DESERTED THERE WITHOUT PROVISIONS—DEPLORABLE STATE—SHIFTS—TAKING OF A TURKEY.

Nov. 27th. Action is the price of safety in the woods. Neither dreams nor poetic visions kept us on our pallets a moment longer than it was light enough to see the grey tints of morning. Each of us prepared a compact knapsack, containing a blanket and a few absolute necessaries, and gave our belts an extra jerk before lifting our guns to our shoulders; then, secretly wishing our friend Butcher a good time in the canebrake, we set out with a light pace towards the south. My companion Bonee[8]was much attached to tea, and, as the article of a small tin pot was indispensable to the enjoyment of this beverage, he burthened himself with this appendage by strapping it on his back with a green sash. This was not a very military sort of accoutrement; but as he did not pride himself in that way, and had not, in fact, the least notion of the ridiculous figure he cut with it, I was alone in my unexpressed sense of the Fridayishness of his looks on the march, day by day, across the prairies and through the woods, with this not very glittering culinary appendage dangling at his back.

Hope gave animation to our steps. We struck out from the valley southerly, which brought us to an elevated open tract, partially wooded, in which the walking was good. After travelling about six miles, we heard the report of a gun on our left. Supposing it to proceed from some white hunter, we tried to get into communication with him, and hallooed stoutly. This was answered. I withdrew the ball from my gun, and fired. We then followed the course of the shot and halloo. But, although a whoop was once heard, which seemed from its intonation to be Indian, we were unsuccessful in gaining an interview, and, after losing a good deal of time in the effort, were obliged to give it up, and proceed. We had now lost some hours.

Much of our way lay through open oak forests, with a thick bed of fallen leaves, and we several times searched under these for sweet acorns; but we uniformly found that the wild turkeys had been too quick for us—every sweet acorn had been scratched up and eaten, and none remained but such as were bitter and distasteful. On descending an eminence, we found the sassafras plentifully, and, breaking off branches of it, chewed them, which took away the astringent and bad taste of the acorns.

As night approached, we searched in vain for water on the elevated grounds, and were compelled to seek the river valley, where we encamped in an old Indian wigwam of bark, and found the night chilly and cold. We turned restlessly on our pallets, waiting for day.

Nov. 28th. Daylight was most welcome. I built a fire against the stump of a dead tree, which had been broken off by lightning at a height of some thirty or forty feet from the ground. We here boiled our tea, and accurately divided about half an ounce of dried meat, being the last morsel we had. While thus engaged, a red-headed woodpecker lit on the tree, some fifteen or twenty feet above our heads, and began pecking. The visit was a most untimely one for the bird. In a few more moments, he lay dead at the foot of the tree, and, being plucked, roasted, and divided, furnished out our repast.We then gave the straps of our accoutrements a tight jerk, by way of preventing a flaccid stomach—an Indian habit—and set forward with renewed strength and hope. We travelled this day over a rolling country of hill and dale, with little to relieve the eye or demand observation, and laid down at night, fatigued, in the edge of a canebrake.

Nov. 29th. A dense fog, which overhung the whole valley, prevented our quitting camp at a very early hour. When it arose, and the atmosphere became sufficiently clear to discern our way, we ascended the hills to our left, and took a west-south-west course.

Nothing can exceed the roughness and sterility of the country we have to-day traversed, and the endless succession of steep declivities, and broken, rocky precipices, surmounted. Our line of march, as soon as we left the low grounds of the river valley, led over moderately elevated ridges of oak-openings. We came at length to some hickory trees. Beneath one of them, the nuts laid in quantities on the ground. We sat down, and diligently commenced cracking them; but this was soon determined to be too slow a process to satisfy hungry men, and, gathering a quantity for our night's encampment, we pushed forward diligently. Tramp! tramp! tramp! we walked resolutely on, in a straight line, over hill and dale. Trees, rocks, prairie-grass, the jumping squirrel, the whirring quail—we gave them a glance, and passed on. We finally saw the sun set; evening threw its shades around; night presented its sombre hue; and, as it grew dark, it became cloudy and cold. Still, no water to encamp by was found, and it finally became so dark that we were forced to grope our way. By groping in the darkness, we at length stood on the brink of a precipice, and could distinctly hear the gurgling sound of running water in the gulf below. It was a pleasing sound; for we had not tasted a drop since early dawn. Had we still had our horse, we should not have been able to get him down in the darkness; but, by seizing hold of bushes, and feeling our way continually, we reached the bottom, and encamped immediately by the stream. It was a small run of pure mountainwater. Soon a fire arose on its banks. We cracked a few of the nuts. We drank our accustomed tin-cup of tea. We wrapped ourselves in our blankets upon its immediate margin, and knew no more till early daylight, when a cold air had quite chilled us.

Nov. 30th. We were happy to get out of this gulf at the earliest dawn. After travelling a couple of miles, we stepped suddenly into a well-beaten horse-path, running transversely to our course, with fresh horse-tracks leading both ways. We stopped to deliberate which end of the path to take. I thought the right-hand would conduct us to the mouth of the river which we had been pursuing down, where it could hardly fail there should be hunters or pioneer settlers located. My companion thought the left hand should be taken, without offering any satisfactory reason for it. I determined, in an instant, to rise above him mentally, by yielding the point, and set out with a firm and ready pace to the left. We travelled diligently about three miles without meeting anything to note, but were evidently going back into the wilderness we had just left, by a wider circuit, when my companion relented, and we turned about on our tracks toward the mouth of the river. We had not gone far, and had not yet reached the point of our original issue from the forest, when we descried a man on horseback, coming toward us. Joy flashed in our eyes. When he came up, he told us that there was a hunter located at the mouth of the river, and another, named Wells, nearly equidistant on the path he was pursuing; and that, if we would follow him, he would guide us to the latter. This we immediately determined to do, and, after travelling about seven miles, came in sight of the cabin.

Our approach was announced by a loud and long-continued barking of dogs, who required frequent bidding from their master before they could be pacified. The first object worthy of remark that presented itself on our emerging from the forest, was a number of deer, bear, and other skins, fastened to a kind of rude frame, supported by poles, which occupied the area about the house. These trophies of skill in the chase were regardedwith great complacency by our conductor, as he pointed them out, and he remarked that Wells was "a great hunter, and a forehanded man." There were a number of acres of ground, from which he had gathered a crop of corn. The house was a substantial, new-built log tenement, of one room. The family consisted of the hunter and his wife, and four or five children, two of whom were men grown, and the youngest a boy of about sixteen. All, males and females, were dressed in leather prepared from deerskins. The host himself was a middle-sized, light-limbed, sharp-faced man. Around the walls of the room hung horns of the deer and buffalo, with a rifle, shot-pouches, leather coats, dried meats, and other articles, giving unmistakeable signs of the vocation of our host. The furniture was of his own fabrication. On one side hung a deerskin, sewed up in somewhat the shape of the living animal, containing bears' oil. In another place hung a similar vessel, filled with wild honey.

All the members of the family seemed erudite in the knowledge of woodcraft, the ranges and signs of animals, and their food and habits; and while the wife busied herself in preparing our meal, she occasionally stopped to interrogate us, or take part in the conversation. When she had finished her preparations, she invited us to sit down to a delicious meal of warm corn-bread and butter, honey and milk, to which we did ample justice. A more satisfactory meal I never made.

It was late in the afternoon when our supper was prepared, and we spent the evening in giving and receiving information of the highest practical interest to each party. Wells recited a number of anecdotes of hunting, and of his domestic life. We repaid him with full accounts of our adventures. What appeared to interest him most, was the accounts of the bears and other wild animals we had seen. When the hour for rest arrived, we opened our sacks, and, spreading our blankets on a bearskin which he furnished, laid down before the fire, and enjoyed a sound night's repose.

Dec. 1st. We were up with the earliest dawning of light, and determined to regain our position at Camp No, on theGreat North Fork, with all possible despatch, and pursue our tour westward. We had understood from the conversation of the hunters among themselves, that they designed forthwith to proceed on a hunting excursion into the region we had passed, on the Great North Fork, and determined to avail ourselves of their guidance to our deposits and horse. We understood that our course from that point had been circuitous, and that the place could be reached by a direct line of twenty miles' travel due north-west. We purchased from our host a dressed deerskin for moccasins, a small quantity of Indian corn, some wild honey, and a little lead. The corn required pounding to convert it into meal. This we accomplished by a pestle, fixed to a loaded swing-pole, playing into a mortar burned into an oak stump. The payment for these articles, being made in money, excited the man's cupidity; for, although he had previously determined on going in that direction, he now refused to guide us to Camp No, unless paid for it. This was also assented to, with the agreement to furnish us with the carcase of a deer.

By eleven o'clock, A. M., all was ready, and, shouldering our knapsacks and guns, we set forward, accompanied by our host, his three sons, and a neighbor, making our party to consist of seven men, all mounted on horses but ourselves, and followed by a pack of hungry, yelping dogs. Our course was due north-west. As we were heavily laden and sore-footed, our shoes being literally worn from our feet by the stony tracts we had passed over, the cavalcade were occasionally obliged to halt till we came up. This proved such a cause of delay to them, that they finally agreed to let us ride and walk, alternately, with the young men. In this way we passed over an undulating tract, not heavily timbered, until about ten o'clock at night, when we reached our abandoned camp, where we found our baggage safe. A couple of the men had been detached from the party, early in the morning, to hunt the stipulated deer; but they did not succeed in finding any, and came in long before us, with a pair of turkeys. One of these we despatched for supper, and then all betook themselves to repose.

Dec. 2d. One of the first objects that presented itself this morning was our horse Butcher, from the neighboring canebrake, who did not seem to have well relished his fare on cane leaves, and stood doggedly in front of our cabin, with a pertinacity which seemed to say, "Give me my portion of corn." Poor animal! he had not thriven on the sere grass and scanty water of the Ozarks, where he had once tumbled down the sides of a cliff with a pack on, been once plunged in the river beyond his depth, and often struggled with the tangled greenbriar of the valleys, which held him by the foot. With every attention, he had fallen away; and he seemed to anticipate that he was yet destined to become wolf's-meat on the prairies.

The hunters were up with the earliest dawn, and several of them went out in quest of game, recollecting their promise to us on that head; but they all returned after an absence of a couple of hours, unsuccessful. By this time we had cooked the other turkey for breakfast, which just sufficed for the occasion. The five men passed a few moments about the fire, then suddenly caught and saddled their horses, and, mounting together, bid us good morning, and rode off. We were taken quite aback by this movement, supposing that they would have felt under obligation, as they had been paid for it, to furnish us some provisions. We looked intently after them, as they rode up the long sloping eminence to the north of us. They brought forcibly to my mind the theatrical representation, in the background, of the march of the Forty Thieves, as they wind down the mountain, before they present themselves at the front of the cave, with its charmed gates. But there was no "open sesame!" for us. Cast once more on our own resources in the wilderness, the alternative seemed to be pressed upon our minds, very forcibly, "hunt or starve." Serious as the circumstances appeared, yet, when we reflected upon their manners and conversation, their obtuseness to just obligation, their avarice, and their insensibility to our actual wants, we could not help rejoicing that they were gone.

Dec. 3d. Left alone, we began to reflect closely on our situation, and the means of extricating ourselves from thisposition. If we had called it camp "No" from our disappointment at not finding it inhabited on our first arrival, it was now again appropriately camp "No," from not obtaining adequate relief from the hunters. We had procured a dressed buckskin for making moccasins. We had a little pounded corn, in a shape to make hunters' bread. We had not a mouthful of meat. I devoted part of the day to making a pair of Indian shoes. We had not a single charge of shot left. We had procured lead enough to mould just five bullets. This I carefully did. I then sallied out in search of game, scanning cautiously the neighboring canebrake, and fired, at different times, three balls, unsuccessfully, at turkeys. It was evident, as I had the birds within range, that my gun had been sprung in the heavy fall I had had, as before related, in the crossing Calamarca. My companion then tookhisgun, and also made an unsuccessful shot. When evening approached, a flock of turkeys came to roost near by. We had now justoneball left; everything depended onthat. I took it to the large and firm stump of an oak, and cut it into exactly thirty-two pieces, with geometrical precision. I then beat the angular edges of each, until they assumed a sufficiently globular shape to admit of their being rolled on a hard surface, under a pressure. This completed their globular form. I then cleansed my companion's gun, and carefully loaded it with the thirty-two shot. We then proceeded to the roost, which was on some large oaks, in a contiguous valley. I carried a torch, which I had carefully made at the camp. My companion took the loaded gun, and I, holding the torch near the sights at the same time, so that its rays fell directly on the birds, he selected one, and fired. It proved to be one of the largest and heaviest, and fell to the earth with a sound. We now returned to camp, and prepared a part of it for supper, determining to husband the remainder so as to last till we should reach settlements by holding a due west course.

Dec. 4th. We had prepared ourselves to start west this day; but it rained from early dawn to dark, which confined usclosely to our cabin. Rain is one of the greatest annoyances to the woodsman. Generally, he has no shelter against it, and must sit in it, ride in it, or walk in it. Where there is no shelter, the two latter are preferable. But, as we had a split-board roof, we kept close, and busied ourselves with more perfect preparations for our next sally. I had some minerals that admitted of being more closely and securely packed, and gladly availed myself of the opportunity to accomplish it. Our foot and leg gear, also, required renovating. Experience had been our best teacher from the first; and hunger and danger kept us perpetually on thequi vive, and made us wise in little expedients.

[8]Elision of Pettibone.

PROCEED WEST—BOG OUR HORSE—CROSS THE KNIFE HILLS—REACH THE UNICA, OR WHITE RIVER—ABANDON THE HORSE AT A HUNTER'S, AND PROCEED WITH PACKS—OBJECTS OF PITY—SUGAR-LOAF PRAIRIE—CAMP UNDER A CLIFF—FORD THE UNICA TWICE—DESCEND INTO A CAVERN—REACH BEAVER RIVER, THE HIGHEST POINT OF OCCUPANCY BY A HUNTER POPULATION.

Dec. 5th. The rain ceased during the night, and left us a clear atmosphere in the morning. At an early hour we completed the package of the horse, and, taking the reins, I led him to the brink of the river, and with difficulty effected a passage. The cliffs which formed the western side of the valley, presented an obstacle not easily surmounted. By leading the animal in a zigzag course, however, this height was finally attained. The prospect, as far as the eye could reach, was discouraging. Hill on hill rose before us, with little timber, it is true, to impede us, but implying a continual necessity of crossing steeps and depressions. After encountering this rough surface about two miles, we came into a valley having a stream tributary to the Great North Fork of White river, which we had quitted that morning, but at a higher point. In this sub-valley we found our way impeded by another difficulty—namely, the brush and small canes that grew near the brook. To avoid this impediment, I took the horse across a low piece of ground, having a thicket, but which appeared to be firm. In this I was mistaken; for the animal's feet soon began to sink, and ere long he stuck fast. The effort to extricate him but served to sink him deeper, and, by pawing to get out, he continually widened the slough in which he had sunk. Wethen obtained poles, and endeavored to pry him up; but our own footing was continually giving way, and we at length beheld him in a perfect slough of soft black mud. After getting his pack off, we decided to leave him to his fate. We carried the pack to dry ground, on one side of the valley, and spread the articles out, not without deeply regretting the poor beast's plight. But then it occurred to us that, if the horse were abandoned, we must also abandon our camp-kettle, large axe, beds, and most of our camp apparatus; and another and concentrated effort was finally resolved on. To begin, we cut down two tall saplings, by means of which the horse was pried up from the bottom of the slough. He was then grasped by the legs and turned over, which brought his feet in contact with the more solid part of the ground. A determined effort, both of horse and help, now brought him to his feet. He raised himself up, and, by pulling with all our might, we brought him on dry ground. I then led him gently to our place of deposit, and, by means of bunches of sere grass, we both busied ourselves first to rub off the mud and wet, and afterwards to groom him, and rub him dry. When he was properly restored, it was found that he was able to carry his pack-saddle and pack; and he was led slowly up the valley about three miles, where we encamped. The grass in this little valley was of a nourishing quality, and by stopping early we allowed him to recruit himself. We did not estimate our whole distance this day at more than nine miles.

Dec. 6th. Butcher had improved his time well in the tender grass during the night, and presented a more spirited appearance in the morning. We were now near the head of Bogbrook, which we had been following; and as we quitted its sides, long to be remembered for our mishap, we began to ascend an elevated and bleak tract of the Mocama or Knife hills, so called, over which the winds rushed strongly as we urged our way. Few large trees were seen on these eminences, which were often bare, with a hard cherty footing, replaced sometimes by clusters of brambles and thickets. In one of these, a valuablecouteau de chassewas swept from its sheath at my side, andlost. I was now reduced to a single knife, of the kind fabricated for the Indians, under the name of scalper. For a distance of sixteen miles we held on our way, in a west-south-west course, turning neither to the right nor left. As night approached, we found ourselves descending into a considerable valley, caused by a river. The shrubbery and grass of its banks had been swept by fire in the fall, and a new crop of grass was just rising. We formed our encampment in this fire-swept area, which afforded Butcher another benefit, and made some amends for his scanty fare among the bleak eminences of the Ozarks. This stream proved to be the Little North Fork of White river. We here despatched the last morsel of our turkey.

Dec. 7th. The ascent of the hills which bounded the valley on the south-west was found to be very difficult; and when the summit was reached, there spread before us an extensive prairie, of varied surface. Trees occasionally appeared, but were in no place so thickly diffused as to prevent the growth of a beautiful carpet of prairie grass. When we had gone about six miles, a bold mound-like hill rose on our left, which seemed a favorable spot for getting a view of the surrounding country. We had been told by the hunters that in travelling fifteen miles about west, we should reach a settlement at Sugar-loaf Prairie, on the main channel of the Unica or White river. But on reaching the summit of this natural look-out, we could descry nothing that betokened human habitation. As far as the eye could reach, prairies and groves filled the undulating vista. On reaching its foot again, where our horse was tied, we changed our course to the south, believing that our directions had been vague. We had gone about a mile in this direction, when we entered a faint and old horse-path. This gave animation to our steps. We pursued it about three miles, when it fell into another and plainer path, having the fresh tracks of horses. We were now on elevated ground, which commanded views of the country all around. Suddenly the opposite side of a wide valley appeared to open far beneath us, and, stepping forward the better to scan it, the river ofwhich we were in search presented its bright, broad, and placid surface to our view, at several hundred feet below. We stood admiringly on the top of a high, rocky, and precipitous cliff. Instinctively to shout, was my first impulse. My companion, as he came up, also shouted. We had reached the object of our search.

Pursuing the brow of the precipice about a mile, a log building and some fields were discovered on the opposite bank. On descending the path whose traces we had followed, it brought us to a ford. We at once prepared to cross the river, which was four or five hundred yards wide, reaching, in some places, half-leg high. On ascending the opposite bank, we came to the house of a Mr. M'Garey, who received us with an air of hospitality, and made us welcome to his abode. He had several grown sons, who were present, and who, as we found by their costume and conversation, were hunters. Mrs. M'G. was engaged in trying bears' fat, and in due time she invited us to sit down to a meal of these scraps, with excellent corn-bread and sassafras tea, with sugar and milk, served in cups.

M'Garey had a bluff frankness of manner, with an air of independence in the means of living, and an individuality of character, which impressed us favorably. He told us that we were eight hundred miles west of the Mississippi by the stream, that White river was navigable by keel-boats for this distance, and that there were several settlements on its banks. He had several acres in cultivation in Indian corn, possessed horses, cows, and hogs, and, as we observed at the door, a hand-mill. At a convenient distance was a smokehouse, where meats were preserved. I observed a couple of odd volumes of books on a shelf. He was evidently a pioneer on the Indian land. He said that the Cherokees had been improperly located along the western bank of White river, extending to the Arkansas, and that the effect was to retard and prevent the purchase and settlement of the country by the United States. He complained of this, as adverse to the scattered hunters, who were anxious to get titles for their lands. He did not represent the Cherokees as being hostile, or as having committed any depredations. But he depicted the Osages as the scourge andterror of the country. They roamed from the Arkansas to the Missouri frontier, and pillaged whoever fell in their way. He detailed the particulars of a robbery committed in the very house we were sitting in, when they took away horses, clothes, and whatever they fancied. They had visited him in this way twice, and recently stole from him eight beaver-skins; and during their last foray in the valley, they had robbed one of his neighbors, called Teen Friend, of all his arms, traps, and skins, and detained him a prisoner. This tribe felt hostile to all the settlers on the outskirts of Missouri and Arkansas, and were open robbers and plunderers of all the whites who fell defenceless into their hands. They were, he thought, particularly to be dreaded in the region which we proposed to explore. He also said that the Osages were hostile to the newly-arrived Cherokees, who had migrated from the east side of the Mississippi, and had settled in the country between the Red river and Arkansas, and that these tribes were daily committing trespasses upon each other. Having myself, but a short time before, noticed the conclusion of a peace between the western Cherokees and Osages at St. Louis, before General Clark, I was surprised to hear this; but he added, as an illustration of this want of faith, that when the Cherokees returned from that treaty, they pursued a party of Osages near the banks of White river, and stole twenty horses from them.

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